Master Gardener Slate Altenburg has a green thumb.

Except it seems, in the case of a rather odd plant his mother gave him many years ago, when he was building the idyllic home he shares with his wife, Jan, in West Penn Township.The plant, to be kind, is just plain pitiful. Tall and gangly with ugly leaves, at first glance, it has little to recommend it.In Altenburg's case, however, his night-blooming cereus has history a long history.The roots of the story pun intended begin with Altenburg's grandmother, who was an early member of the Philadelphia Garden Club. She got the original plant from the garden club, back in the 1920s.She eventually passed it on to Altenburg's mother. It traveled north from Philadelphia to Maine, where he grew up.In 1976, around the time Altenburg and his wife, Jan, were building their home, his mother gave him a "slip," or cutting, of the plant.It grew to about 2 feet tall and limped along in its own sickly way, languishing for 37 years, tucked into a corner of the dining room, out of the way. Way out of the way."What will we do with it?" Jan asked her husband. "It's ugly."She wanted to get rid of it, he says.Altenburg refused."I told her 'no.' It came from my mother. No way can we get rid of it."After all those years, Altenburg says, and getting tired of looking at it, Jan moved the plant into the living room and stuck it behind the sofa."She was hoping we'd forget to water it."As is typical of couples married for several decades, Jan tells a different story."I thought it needed sun," she says, "and I was right."While Jan relegated the night-blooming cereus to an out-of-the-way spot, its new home was in full view of a bank of windows, affording lots of sunshine.With all that sun and less water, it not only began to thrive, it blossomed."We had it for 37 years before she tried to destroy it, and ended up fixing it," says Altenburg. "Come to find out, it's a cactus and that's exactly what it wanted very little water and lots of sun."The Altenburg's night-blooming cereus is still an ugly plant, but over the course of the summer, maybe six or seven times, it will bloom.When ready, the bud will begin to bloom late in the day. Overnight it will open the rest of the way. The flower, which is about the size of a grapefruit and has a light, pleasant fragrance, is short-lived. By morning, the petals have begun to droop, and the show is over.Slate describes the scent as a cross between Ivory soap and chardonnay.So what's the attraction?"It's a genuine heirloom," he says.If you have a sunny space and lots of patience, you can have your own night-blooming cereus.The Altenburgs cut slips from their plant and potted them. About a half-dozen pots will be available during the Carbon County Master Gardeners Plant Sale this weekend at the Mahoning Valley Farmers Market.If you're lucky enough to purchase one, they recommend keeping it in a small pot (it likes to be root bound) and watering once a week. Don't soak it.Then sit back and wait as it's unlikely to bloom for the first four or five years.After that, with minimal care, maybe even a little neglect, it's likely to have a long, happy life.